


roll back, like press and rewind

by zabiume



Category: Bleach
Genre: Bisexual Characters, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Married Sex, Orihime has Ideas, Pegging, Tender and Loving Sex is Fun You Guys are Just Cowards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29857485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zabiume/pseuds/zabiume
Summary: His eyes dropped lower and lower until it landed on one particular option that had his throat going suddenly very dry. He swallowed. Then swallowed again. Something must have shifted in the air, because Orihime noticed his pause and followed his gaze.“Oh,” she said gently, with a loving smile. Excited. “Oh, Ichigo! Would you like to try it sometime?”It was Ichigo’s turn to bite his lip. Hard.Pegging, it said, in tiny cursive letters.
Relationships: Inoue Orihime/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	roll back, like press and rewind

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, this is explicit, so please heed the tags. Title is from 'Rock Me' by One Direction, because the author is entirely uncreative and working on getting out all her WIPs but none of her WIPs have names. This has a plot, if you squint, but also...it doesn't. I will not elaborate. Enjoy!

_This is where the magic happens,_ he thought--the exact spot where he was sucking indulgent kisses between her thighs. The pressure of Orihime's heels digging into his back was almost as familiar as the pleading in his lungs for the air he was just not willing to take. Not yet, anyway.

 _" Please_ _."_ She jerked up shakily, one hand tugging at his hair. "Ichigo."

He grunted, pulled back to hold her open with two fingers, then dived back in deeper than before. She let out a low and happy moan, and it was incredible how much her happiness brought on his own. As of a few weeks ago, Ichigo was a married man and he'd be damned if he couldn’t go down on his wife with a gusto that would have her twisting, begging for him to _please just finish, the neighbors --_

"Come on," he panted, encouraging her to just let loose, to buck harder into his mouth. He twisted his tongue deeper, loving the way she clenched around the wetness of it. "Come on, Orihime."

"Anata," she cried, "I'm so close."

Shit. "Say it again," he said, shivering at the roughness of his own voice. Her thighs stiffened and she was _so_ close he could taste her everywhere on his tongue.

"Anata," she said sweetly, before freezing entirely and arching until her back went taut. Ichigo growled, almost stumbling forward onto her belly. He only _just_ finished but he entertained the thought of maybe, possibly going again. It was possible. Conceivable.

It took a minute to recover after that. His elbows hurt, so he gently shoved her aside and dropped face first into the pillow. No one ever told him sex was a lot of work, but Orihime was surprisingly the first person who convinced him sex was a lot of _fun_ . Not that his repertoire for this kind of stuff was expansive in the first place; but he supposed it did help that his partner took a nervous and totally accidental elbow to the face with laughter the first couple of times, saving the experience from being totally... _mortifying_. 

"So good," Orihime chirped from somewhere to his left, so he reached out blindly with his arm to tuck her in closer to his side. When all he felt was the silhouette of warmth on the sheets, where she’d just been, he turned his head and cracked an eye open with a frown. She had already hopped off the bed and started tugging his shirt on, toeing a box by her bedside with one shaky leg. When she retrieved what she was looking for, she pushed her hair aside and jumped back into bed beside him with an _‘oof.’_

Ichigo glanced down at her lap. “What’s that?” He jerked his head towards the little, black diary that she was scribbling in with a satisfied smile on her face. It wasn’t uncommon for Orihime to bolt to the bathroom to pee when they finished, or to the kitchen (-- to pick up a snack) but this was...decidedly new. 

“My bucket list,” she murmured, making a series of scritches and scratches on the paper fastidiously.

Ichigo suddenly felt a swarm of heat rush up his neck. “Y-Your sex bucket list?” he stuttered, peering over her shoulder even as his face flushed. 

Orihime’s ears turned pink too, but her eyes were determined when she caught his gaze and nodded. She went back to her writing and suddenly, Ichigo felt all too curious. 

It wasn’t that any of this was really that new to Ichigo. They’d fooled around a couple of times before they were married, when they were comfortable enough to progress past hand-holding, to fumbling around with each other's clothes, to actually getting around to any heavy petting. And as with anything, Ichigo had been a fast learner to what got her responsive, what she liked, what was _good_. As far as he was concerned, the view from top was as good as the view from below, so he was content with the familiarity of it all, only ever thinking about it from each moment to the next. He hadn’t put much thought to whatever came beyond it, frankly comfortable with where he was in terms of experience. 

Orihime, though. Orihime was curious-- far too curious and surprisingly excited about these things to reserve herself to the ordinary and the usual. He was all too aware that she owned a cute little vibrator -- hot pink, tiny enough to fit the palm of her hand -- often found her nose buried in “self-help” books, too, despite the adamant blush on her cheeks. 

And this was the crux of it. He knew she enjoyed whatever it was they chose to do on any given day, but he also knew she liked to push the boundaries sometimes and work up her noggin into something that sounded weird in theory but _usually_ felt really good in concept. All she needed was an idea--just a spark that she could work with because she loved him as much as she could anybody, and one of the ways she wanted to show it was...whatever they did here. In the bedroom. 

But this was the first he’d heard of a list. 

He cleared his throat. “Uh...What--what’s on the list?”

“Oh, this and that,” she replied vaguely, cheeks smeared pink with an air of embarrassment. 

Ichigo curled his hand around her wrist. “Orihime,” he said, nudging her. “Tell me. I won’t judge you, I promise.” 

“It’s not that!” she insisted, and when his brows furrowed dubiously, she insisted again, “It’s _not_ . I just don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do just because you don’t want to put _me_ out. I know what you’re like and I don’t want to do anything if we’re _both_ not having fun.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna know what I’m comfortable with unless you show me,” he pointed out, then, “And you never make me feel pressured, don’t worry about it. As your husband, it’s kind of my duty to--”

Orihime clamped his mouth shut with her hand, letting out a breathless and flustered laugh. “Ichigo, stop!” 

“It’s true,” he said, voice muffled behind her hand. “Just let me at it.”

She sobered, biting her lip. “Well, if you’re sure.”

She flipped open the book, tucking a strand of hair carefully behind her ears as she balanced it on both their knees. It appeared fairly standard, a numbered list -- as most things were with Orihime -- but some had ambiguous sketches drawn too. Ichigo gently took it out of her grip and stared down the list, feeling his face grow hotter and hotter as he scanned the contents. She watched him for a few moments carefully, giggling to herself when his face pinched in confusion. He made the funniest faces!

“Well?” she asked, after a few moments had passed, tilting her head to one side. “What about this?” She waved her hand over one of the figurines. 

“I would definitely drop you,” he replied, ignoring the noise of protest she made. He pointed at another figurine a few numbers below. It looked like...a box with eyes. “What’s this?” 

She peered over his shoulder. “Oh,” she said with a small smile, like it was one of her fonder ideas. Ichigo made a mental note of that. “I had a dream once where we roleplayed as _‘Gundam’_ and _‘innocent civilian’_.” 

He paled. “I...would be the Gundam in this equation right?” 

“Of course not, silly,” Orihime replied airily, not bothering to elaborate. 

“Right.” 

His eyes dropped lower and lower until it landed on one particular option that had his throat going suddenly very dry. He swallowed. Then swallowed again. Something must have shifted in the air, because Orihime noticed his pause and followed his gaze. 

“Oh,” she said gently, with a loving smile. Like he said-- excited. “Oh, Ichigo! Would you like to try it sometime?” 

It was Ichigo’s turn to bite his lip. Hard. 

_Pegging,_ it said, in tiny cursive letters. 

  
  


**___________**

  
  


The thing about being married to one of his closest friends was that they knew a lot about each other, in extensive detail. Had practically _lived_ each other's lives for a good chunk of it. Orihime must have guessed long before he told her that he was bixesual; she had probably just pretended to be surprised for his sake, back when he came out to her during the early stages of maybe-dating-maybe-not back and forth they had going on. And the way she knew, she confessed to him, was that she was, too. 

So there was no question of being prudish or reticent in _that_ regard. 

However, fear of the unknown had his stomach coiling tight into knots. It was true that there was no one he would rather grow old together with than his boisterous and cheerful wife, but there was also the matter of human desire and the rather curious imagery it sparked in his brain ever since Orihime made the suggestion. He wanted to know what it felt like. Wanted to feel it with the love of his life, the person he trusted for this kind of otherwise embarrassing thing. Orihime knew how to gently nudge him along, all while letting him take charge-- and he was usually grateful for it. But…

His eyes trailed over to where she was, spread out on the couch and humming to herself as she went over her emails. A sudden heat lashed under his skin, his gaze appreciatively going over the places where her hoodie had ridden up. He licked his lower lip, considering turning in early for bed tonight. Considered pulling her into the room with him, dimming down the lights, and just getting on with it. 

When his gaze flickered back to her face, he noticed she was already staring back at him openly with a curious frown. He immediately looked away, busied himself with trimming his nails again so he could stubbornly shove down the excited fluttering in his belly. 

If Orihime noticed, she didn’t say anything. Even later, when they crawled into bed and she kissed his cheek goodnight, an awareness lingered in the air that he didn't try very hard to curb. 

After all, he couldn't un-think these thoughts. They were already out in the open. 

All that was left was for him to make up his mind about it. 

  
  


___________

  
  


Then, on Friday night, the tension split open in the middle like a dam when Orihime brought it up again. They were in the shower, Orihime’s face tucked into his shoulder as he blocked her from getting hit by the steady stream of water. Her fingertips were prodding his temples back and forth, rubbing the excess foam of shampoo into his hair as his own arms curled around her hips. 

“I might have bought some things,” she muttered into his shoulder, before pulling back to look at him. Under the lights of the bathroom, her eyes were bright and soft, almost honey-like. Water dripped from the curve of her forehead to her neck, keeping careful distance from spraying her obscenely long hair that she didn’t feel like washing today. 

Even without prompting, Ichigo knew what she was talking about. 

“Ah.” His face turned a blotchy pink. He felt himself stiffen slightly, blood coursing south when he recalled their conversation. He had half a mind to lower her into the bathtub then and there, half because he adored the glistening pinks of her skin when she was all shower-fresh and pretty like this, and the other half being well...that throb in his belly again. 

Orihime’s fingers hooked under his chin and tilted his gaze upwards, lest he became overcome by sudden impulse and had his way with her in the bathroom. While she was not opposed to the _concept_ , she had other things in mind for tonight. 

“I need to know if you’re ready,” she said, eyes searching his with an open and tender gaze. 

His chest flared with affection and he cupped her face, pulling her closer so he could kiss her nose. He hummed, then kissed her hairline, her chin, the plush curve of her cheek, hand sliding from her neck to her shoulder. 

She laughed softly, ducking away from his kisses but staying close enough to him that they could still look at each other. “Was that a yes?” 

Ichigo took a moment, considering how the weight that dropped in his stomach was a complete contrast from the way his dick was already starting to prod her in the thigh. He took a deep breath. Oh, what the hell. 

“Yeah,” he grunted, cheeks flushing with color. “I want to.” 

Orihime brightened and pulled away from him immediately, groping around for the large towel that she kept on the rack beside the shower. He reached for her, suddenly deflated by the turn of events that involved her leaving him here by himself. 

“I’m going to go get ready,” she announced, already wrapping herself up with her towel. Turning over her shoulder, she regarded him thoughtfully. “You should probably use the bathroom before you come in.” 

He felt a sudden swell of panic. Use the bathroom?

“Is that a thing?!” he demanded, craning his head around the shower curtain to look at her in alarm. 

“Just in case,” she informed him cheerfully, like they were talking about the weather. “Make sure you clean really well, okay?” 

“C-clean?!”

She ducked out of the room and closed the door behind her before he could open his mouth. 

He swallowed hard, banging his head against the glass with a groan. 

**___________**

Eventually, they made it onto the bed. 

Ichigo was on his back upon her request, palms sweaty as he watched her. She was in all-black lace lingerie, and he could tell she liked the way it fit snug over her body with the way her fingers glided over the material in casual consideration. It was a new set, and it looked so lovely on her that all he could do was stare. All her life, she'd had a penchant for turning heads wherever she went, but she truly was the most beautiful when _she_ felt like it. 

Her cheeks were a shy shade of pink, but she looked determined, hair all pinned back and tied up in a high, no-bullshit ponytail usually reserved for the dishes and nasty upsurges of Hollows in the neighborhood. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, for the fourth time. 

“Yes,” she muttered patiently, patting down her pinned hair to make sure it stayed in place. “Are you?” 

He couldn’t speak, so he just nodded, watching as she walked up to him closer and closer until she was standing between his legs. “Lie down,” she said gently, trailing a finger down his throat with one hand, digging her nails in over the thick skin of his shoulder lightly with the other. 

He went down without protest, urging his jelly legs apart so she could fit in between them. Under the slanting light, he watched the way the lace pulled tight against her body, eyes darkening as they scanned her head to toe. She hoisted herself onto his lap and leaned down until they were chest to chest before capturing his mouth. His hand immediately went to her shoulder, but she gave his wrist a warning squeeze with the hand she used to cup his face. He decided to trail his hand lower, forgetting about what they were going to do when her tongue prodded at his, mouths tilting until the heat between their legs grew stuffy. He ran his hand over the curve of her clothed breast, tracing his thumb over the frenzied patterns that ran over her nipple. She moaned softly into his mouth, grinding down on his hips. 

Then, she pulled away, ending the kiss a lot sooner than he would have liked in favor of patting his belly. She hopped off the bed and ambled over to a box by the side that he’d been too busy to notice. He watched the pretty curve of her ass as she wiggled on the harness, fingers adeptly buckling it tight. 

“Orihime…?” he asked weakly. He didn’t know what to say, what to do with his hands. 

“Just had to get this on,” she assured him, coming back to the foot of the bed. He opened his mouth to say something back, but promptly felt it going dry when she reached behind herself and clicked her bra off. She was in nothing but the strap-on and her undies now as she bounced back on the bed, laughing gleefully when her strap-on bounced with her.

Ichigo was caught between laughing with her and just--admiring how beautiful she looked, especially now, getting ready to tuck herself between his legs. He was sure he was making a stupid face but every person, every single person had told him this was out of his league and right now, he was so, so glad she thought it wasn’t. That she wasn’t. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, loving the adorable flush on her cheeks as she crawled back up to him. 

“ _You’re_ beautiful,” she bit back, squirming when his fingers dug into her ticklish side. “Stop, that tickles!” 

He squeezed the plush curve of her hip in warning. 

“Okay, okay,” she said earnestly, raising her hands in surrender. “I...I do feel beautiful, thank you.”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Better believe it.” 

“But I still stand by what I said, you’re very beautiful, too.” 

He snorted, yanking her into another kiss. This one was a little tender, bordering on the mildest dirty when the tip of his tongue curled around hers. When she reached around for the lube, he tensed, suddenly remembering what they were about to do. 

She watched his face twist and smiled. “Relax,” she said gently, kissing his forehead. “I’m going to take care of you now, okay?” 

She began kissing down the line of his cheek, where the skin stretched thin over his bone. His throat jammed in a feeble murmur because, well--no one had ever said that to him so sincerely before. As she spread more earnest and damp kisses across his throat and his chest, he felt himself relax, turning to putty under her touch. Stopping at his stomach, she raised herself up and lathered one finger with lube. Arching forward, she brought her finger close to his face. 

“My favorite flavor,” she said happily, letting him tug her hand closer. “Guess.” 

He took a tiny, tentative lick and, moments later, scrunched his face in realization. “Strawberry,” he said flatly, glaring at her. “Corny.” 

She smiled and squeezed more onto her palms, slickening it up with the fluid as she prepared him for her fingers. When she leaned down to kiss him, he felt the dildo prod against his belly. 

"Orihime," he started nervously. 

"Don't worry," she assured him, sliding down until her head was level with his stomach. "I know what I'm doing. I practised." 

"Practised?" he croaked, feeling the heat of her breath feather his hip. 

"On myself," she explained, urging open one thigh. "I wanted to do this right for you." 

Ichigo's throat caught, almost burning with emotion. Orihime gently slid her finger down, using the slickness of the lube to work it into him. He tensed for a moment, made a stuttered sound of protest, before sagging back down into the bed again. 

"Is this okay?" she asked softly, working the pad of her finger slowly and deliberately against the tight ring of muscle. 

"Yeah," he replied weakly, arching into her when she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. The tip of his dick felt wet already. God she was going to kill him. " _Orihime_." 

"Are you liking this?" she asked, sliding her finger in and out and watching his eyes flutter closed, brows drawn tight. 

"Yeah. Could- you could probably do another."

Orihime watched his face strain when she curled her finger in a particular angle before adding another in. _Oh, he likes that,_ she thought, watching him jerk up with an audible, but feeble moan. 

"You're so lovely," she commented sweetly, slowly sliding her fingers out of him after a while, reaching around for the rag. His breath broke out into splintered shivers, chest damp with lines of sweat. "Are you ready for me?" 

"Hell yes," he said, ready to say anything at this point if he could just _get some more_. He groaned loudly when she nudged his legs further apart, barely heeding to the warning squeeze she gave his hip. 

"Okay," she said firmly, getting onto her knees and sidling up the strap-on until it was barely grazing him. His face was sweaty, hand trembling when wiped some of it away. "Tell me if you want me to stop, okay? We can stop whenever you say so." 

He nodded, before tightening his grip on her wrist. "Go slow," he warned, voice small and vulnerable from embarrassment. 

"Of course," she replied softly, encouraging him to relax with just the lightest brush of her fingertips on his heated skin. "Just relax." She kissed his ear, snaking one hand down to grip the strap-on. When she began inching into him slow, agonizingly _slow_ , he whimpered at a pitch she was sure she'd never heard from him before. "Ichigo?" 

"I'm good. Shit, shit." He clenched his teeth as she inched further. "Fuck, oh god." 

"I-- is this doing anything for you?" she asked, uncertain, checking in on him. "Am I getting this right?" 

He let out a breath and nodded, breathing heavily onto the top of her head as she slowly worked into him. " _Shit_ ," he moaned, clutching the back of her neck to steady himself. She decided to gently push him down, getting down on her elbows until she was squarely on top of him. She paused, staying absolutely still until his hips began hitching upwards, desperately rolling to make contact with the strap. She let him set the pace, the pressure, oblivious to the way her own breath had quickened into pants at the sight under her. 

He groaned her name, hand clenching the sheet tightly. She watched him work himself upwards for a few more minutes, before holding him down and mimicking him. Her hips rolled down, loving the way his clammy hand grasped absently at her back like he was bracing himself. When his hand grasped her ass they both moaned. 

"Orihime, I'm gonna-- shit, I think I'm--" She kissed him, quick and sharp, before picking up pace again. Her vision went blurry and she was definitely a lot more wet than she'd anticipated, but she couldn't stop now-- not when it was this much. _Too much_. 

It wasn't long before he broke apart with a gasp. His face was red, entire body breaking out in a series of shivers as he came in slick, sharp spurts over his belly. Orihime retreated back, pulling out slowly as he rode his orgasm. He hissed, sharp and quiet, when she came free, chest heaving with a rush of _feeling_.

The next time he opened his eyes blearily, Orihime was gently wiping him down with a warm, wet rag. He reached for her hand, loosely locking their fingers together. 

"Did you like it?" she asked, using her free hand to push back his hair from his forehead tenderly. 

"I _love_ you," he replied, exhausted. She made a happy noise and tossed the rag aside, breaking out into a squeal when Ichigo hooked his arm around her hip and pulled her closer. He kissed the back of her neck, already sliding one warm hand down her belly, the other one up her chest. 

"Oh, Ichigo," she said faintly, even as she pushed into his fingers. "It's late. We'll disturb the neighbours-- _oh_." 

He smiled into her skin, right where he'd lightly nipped her. "Don't worry," he said, pushing her onto her back. "If they're that disturbed, they'll move." 

She couldn’t find any faults with that. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I love shy and vanilla Orihime as much as the next person but [meme voice]...it's just not realistic. Let Orihime live her fullest 2021.


End file.
